


Aftermath

by Star_less



Series: P.O.R.T.A.L verse [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Baby Tony, Canon Divergence, Cross-Posted on deviantArt, Diapers, Fluffyish, Friendship, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Non-Sexual Age Play, Not Canon Compliant, Omorashi, One Shot, Papa Steve, Post-Avengers (2012), Sickfic, Stony Friendship - Freeform, Tony centric, Wetting, artistic licence: biology, caregiver steve, diaper wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 14:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16834330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: In the wake of Loki’s attack and Tony’s selfless solution, Tony is hospitalised. While he’s hospitalised, both old issues and new issues emerge. Steve helps take care of him.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This was a (largely unfinished) story I made in 2017 and... left it to die on my dA. I don’t feel like editing it much else but I thought that you guys would like to see it. I don’t actually think this fits into the PORTAL verse right here, but I couldn’t wait to share it with you so I just added it in. Once I’ve finished my next story I might re-order the chapters a little.

"Name please?"

"Steven Grant Rogers."

"Friend of the injured, yes?"

"Yes."

"Room 223. Follow me."

Tony had fallen. There... there was no way that he could have gotten that missile up there without falling, of course, but still it shook Steve that Tony had fallen - possibly to the extent of causing near-fatal injury. It was a bracing thought that pulled him away from the adrenaline of missions; that every one of them, perhaps with the exception of himself, was nowhere near invincible. The ward sister was clipping through corridor after corridor, throwing all sorts of words at him.   
"He's stable, very good progress given his condition, showing signs of mild concussion."  
Steve nodded, reassured, although he was told as much already. Bruce, once he had shaken off the Hulk, had checked Tony over and declared that he was showing signs of concussion, but wasn't able to properly assess him and overlook his medical records, so it was off to the NYC General Hospital for him. 

"He's been suffering from his reoccurring nocturnal enuresis again," the nurse continued, something which pulled Steve from his thoughts at once. He must've looked confused, because the nurse stilled to a stop and spoke slowly. "Bedwetting, did you not know anything about that? Well, we've sorted it out anyway." she shook it off with a shrug. "The concussion seems to have altered his mental state. He's quite weepy, and keeps asking for his father. Jarvis..?”

Steve nodded unsurely, the man she was describing sounded little like the Stark he knew. And Jarvis... as far as Steve was concerned, Jarvis had died long before now.  
They stopped in front of Tony’s designated door. Thin blinds covered the blurry windowpane into Tony’s room, concealing him from view. “No one else has come to visit him just yet.” The nurse told Steve, dragging his attention away from where he was trying to see Tony through the hairline gaps in the slats. “You’re the first. He refused a Miss Potts and a Mr. Rhodes earlier on in the week.”

Yes, that was why Steve was here; a promise to a hysterical Pepper as to why Tony had pitched a fit not to let her in. “He’s sleeping right now. This is when his mental state is at its weakest so... you may just get on his good side.” The ward sister explained, keying in the door code and opening the door a few inches. “But you know,” she sighed, “You don’t have to see him if it’s too distressing for you.”

Steve’s mouth moved into a thin line. No. There was no way he could turn back now. Not after he had promised Pepper and Rhodes and the rest of the team. Tony could throw as many fits as he wanted but Steve was seeing him whether he liked it or not. “No,” he told the ward sister softly, his own hand joining hers at the door, “Please, I’ll be fine.”

The door slid open as the nurse ducked out claiming privacy...   
...and suddenly Steve understood why Tony refused to let Pepper and Rhodes and whoever else see him.

“Oh, Tony..”   
The man was curled up in a tangle of scratchy hospital bedsheets. He was pale, his eyes red and swollen from crying, his hair tufty and bedheaded. He had an IV line in one hand; he had this same hand curled in toward his mouth as though he were about to suck his thumb. The other hand, cannula free, was pressed between his legs. He was dressed in a hospital gown that had a gap in the back... which revealed that Tony had also been wrapped up in a diaper. It was clean, although his legs were pulled in so tight Steve suspected it wouldn’t remain clean for much longer.   
There was a large upright chair in the corner of the room; Steve dragged it closer to Tony’s bed and settled with a quiet ‘oof’ into it. For a split second he swore he saw Tony’s tear-tipped lashes flutter, and wondered if Tony was waking up - but then the movement was gone. Tony stretched out, catlike, a grimace on his face as he lifted his hand from between his legs and gingerly lay on his back, free hand dangling off the side of the bed - and then he slept once more with nothing more than a shuddered out sigh hinting that his pain medication was wearing off.

Or at least that was what Tony wanted Steve to believe. Steve however had known Tony long enough to have entirely memorised when Tony was in a state of deep sleep and when he was pretending. Thinking it best not to mention anything, Steve was quite happy to trace the pattern of the tile floor with the sole of his sneakers, settle, and wait.

Steve didn’t have to wait for very long; Tony woke shortly afterward. “Wh’s th’re?” He slurred, nowhere near coherent. Steve managed to understand him just fine, though, and quickly looked to where Tony was laying. The first thing he noticed was that Tony was... trembling. Visibly, very obviously trembling - but trembling in his legs rather than all over. 

“It’s me,” Steve replied softly. “Steve.”

“Oh,” Tony mumbled, so softly and so compliantly that all Steve could do was laugh and thank God that he wasn’t pitching a fit. “Hi Spangles,”  
Steve chuckled slowly, relishing the tiny smile Tony gave him in return. Now that he had picked up on Tony’s fidgeting, it was all he could notice - and it seemed to be increasing. “Hey. You cold or something, Tony? Want an extra blanket?” 

Tony shook his head and instantly crashed back into sleep, and it was as if he had never woken in the first place. Steve, ever patient, went back to waiting.  
~

At one point, Steve caught sight of Tony’s outstretched hand hanging off of the bed. It was... such a small thing, but it brought a smile to Steve’s face. Gingerly Steve reached out, held Tony's hand in his own. Tony was slightly clammy, hot yet cold, but Steve didn't let go. As the minutes plodded by he idly began tracing swirls on Tony's open palm and simply watched Tony continue to sleep.   
It only crossed his mind that Tony might've been ticklish, and therefore irritated by such a movement, when the resting man's eyelids flickered.   
Steve let go of Tony's palm instantly, feeling a flush that crept through his neck and flourished in his cheeks. "Sorry," he said softly, moving his gaze and staring mutely at his feet. Restless, it wasn't long before his foot began twisting again, tracing the tiles of the floor. "I- I didn't realise you were awake." He was sheepish, his voice fraying with nerves on the end. "Mmmm..." Tony's eyes crinkled again and he just barely shook his head. With what little energy he had in his body, Tony forced his heavy eyelids to open and he looked toward Steve for one long moment before nestling into the scratchy hospital blankets once more. He might've said something that sounded like, 'I was enjoying that,' but his words were caught in the blanket. Steve smiled faintly to himself, and let the moments pass by. But just as Tony's fingers curled and he was about to pull away, Steve pressed their palms together once more. His blue eyes flickered up to watch as Tony relaxed bonelessly into the bedsheets, comforted.

They talked for a while, and it was nice to have some semblance of normality, even if their conversation was stilted and slurred on Tony’s part and sometimes Steve had to do some mental gymnastics to work out what Tony was talking about. But... it was nice all the same to have the hospital melt away from the pair of them, to forget about Loki and the way of the world now Loki had been defeated. What Steve couldn’t shake, though, was the fact that throughout their entire conversation Tony... did not stop moving. Steve caught on to every fidget, every hitch, every flutter in his breath - right down to the way Tony would periodically twitch and squeeze his fingers tightly. It was... blatantly obvious what was the matter with Tony as far as Steve was concerned but - with no way to bring it up - he stayed silent. It was only once Tony began to fidget much more obviously, with his knees up in tight, that Steve felt as though he had to say something.

"So..." He pressed, tracing the lines on Tony's palms again as it seemed to relax him entirely; and a relaxed Tony was an unusually compliant one... "How long, Tony?"  
"Mmmm?" Tony whimpered, looking at the Avenger sat beside him through exhausted brown eyes. Steve nodded down at Tony's waist, and Tony shamefully drew his gaze there too. The diaper that the hospital had provided them with was thick and blue and crinkled when Tony did so much as look at it; never mind actually use the damn thing. As if on cue, it crinkled, and a blush leaked over his cheeks. His shame felt bone deep.  
"How long are you gonna wait it out for?" the blond murmured, not meeting Tony's gaze in favour for talking at his hands instead. He hoped that Tony would feel less ashamed if they weren't having a face to face conversation. It was quiet for a long time - too much of a long time, though - and when Steve glanced up again, Tony was staring at him. Something was... different now, different to how Tony had been five, ten, fifteen minutes ago. His brown eyes were wide and owlish but glossy and slightly damp. He looked... younger somehow. Steve had no doubt that the tiny keening noises coming from Tony's throat as he tried to speak through tears or the fact that his lip was trembling helped a great deal. But he sighed, and carried on. "Just go." he shrugged, leaning forward and getting to his feet. "When you're all done, we can sort things out."  
Tony watched Steve leave, the lump in his throat growing heavier. He drew his legs in and curled in on himself, bladder aching with anticipation. "Wait. Steve." he asked as the Avenger took one step out of the room. Immediately, Steve turned back and looked toward Tony. "Yes?"  
(Both of them pretended not to notice the little hip roll Tony had managed to do in an attempt to keep holding on.)  
"How.. did you know?"  
Tony was breathless now, his breath hitching when it came to him, free hands pressed under his bottom; a movement learned from childhood. 

"I'm Captain America." Steve smiled, his eyes glittering the same way they did whenever Steve happened to introduce himself to the shy young children who gaped at him if they saw him in the street. "I know everything." he called out before the door swept shut behind him. 

(It was bullshit, of course, and Steve suspected that Tony knew it was bullshit and was going to pick his brain apart the second he got a chance; although the glint in Tony's eyes had him - just slightly, just the tiniest smidgen - thinking otherwise.)  
~

Tony sighed to himself as his room fell into a sickly silence, the kind that threw nerves into the deepest pits of his belly. It wasn't as if he needed Steve to coach him through pissing in a goddamn diaper... but that was exactly what he needed... even if it was a struggle to admit it to himself. But with his bladder pounding, he slowly moved his hands from under his bottom and moved them to the scratchy hospital blanket once more; he squeezed his eyes shut tight... and he relaxed.   
Considering his bladder ached to keep in his liquid, it took a painfully long time for it to come out. It started off as the smallest trickle that rustled and hissed as it hit the thin material of the diaper, a noise which had Tony whimpering with mortification; his cheeks blooming a matching shade of scarlet... despite it being only him in the room. The noise seemed to roar in his ears and he hated the thought of Steve being able to hear him. But no matter how much the feverful Avenger tried to hold it back, tried to force those thoughts away to the back of his mind where they belonged, he couldn't win. "Oh... please.." he mumbled before he could quite stop himself, another thick droplet seeping out and rolling into the thin fabric on his waist. He was on a very thin precipice; teetering between having his dam break and thoroughly soaking himself or... well, not. Judging by the dripping, Tony was steering full-throttle toward the former. "Oh please, please..!" he pleaded with himself, voice languid and rambling as the drips came hotter and faster into the diaper, slicking the padding so that it clung to him, relief just out of his grasp. The hospital protection wasn't as nice as his diapers at home were, was nowhere near as soft and as pillowy, but still just as clingy and... comforting. And... and just like that - like a cork popping out of champagne - the drips gave way to a heavy, much needed spray. Tony shuddered in surprise as the abrupt stream began. Then, registering what had just happened, he sank back into his bedsheets with a shaky exhale of pure, utter ecstasy. His hands pressed lightly against the pillowy padding; encouraging him to smile as it grew soggy and warm beneath his fingertips. A light squeeze earned him a biting crinkle from the padding and the sensation of his piss, still warm, sinking slowly into the diaper. Tony lay silent and still and let himself piss full throttle into the diaper, beyond lost in the cloud of exhilarated relief that had crashed in on his head. The silent room, for a solid minute, was filled only with the roar of piss hitting the diaper and any strangled moans of relief that this pulled from Tony's mouth. Even when the stream lost its fervency, began to dwindle back to the dribbles that had started it all off, Tony was lost in the wave of bliss that had overtaken him. He twisted, brought his thighs in a little tighter— breath hitching with total elation as a final burst of pee bloomed over the midsection of the diaper— and sank bonelessly as the last droplets made their escape. His toes were tightly curled against the starchy bedsheets (something else he’d carried over from childhood) and, slowly, he began to relax and shift to inspect the damage.  
Well; the diaper had held it all in. There was an embarrassingly large outline on the front of the diaper where the pee had soaked up, and if he moved a little too vigorously then he was rewarded with an uncomfortable squishing sensation, which felt much less nice when his pee had run cold. He shifted experimentally, toying with the idea of taking it off. Now that the cloud of elated piss-free relief had began to dissipate, Tony felt a finger of embarrassment poke him in the stomach, and the longer the cold diaper was left on, the more finger-jabs of shame he felt. 

He... had soaked himself like a-- like a child. Willingly soaked himself; with no chance of being able to blame it on his injured state and-- oh, God. He could... he could barely move his arms and legs without agony twisting itself into every one of his bones. There was no way he could change himself without contorting and collapsing in exhaustion. As if to prove himself wrong, the injured genius sat up slowly. That was the easy part, even if he did have to breathe depravely through gritted teeth a couple times. He stared down at the soaked diaper hanging on his waist and gave it an experimental tug-- 

"A-agh-!"

\--resulting in a bone deep ache grinding along one arm, Tony's face crumbling in agony, and his diaper not budging an inch. It appeared that the tabs on the diaper required the finest motor skills possible, something Tony was lacking at this moment in time. Nevertheless he tried again, lifting his bottom slightly this time. He managed a good five and a half seconds before his muscles burned with fatigue and he collapsed down again; arms slowing shortly after that.   
This... this was fucking impossible. How in the hell was he meant to do this? How was anybody..?!

Tony began to look around the room, his eyes owlish. Someone... had clearly managed to wrangle him into this goddamn thing, so they could damn well wrangle him out of it, too. His eyes set on the thin window separating him and Steve; he sighed in realisation. 

Son. Of a Bitch. 

"Steve," Tony croaked, trying to raise his voice as much as he could. "Steve, I.."

Instinctively - lost, without any way out - he reached out toward the doorway, in the way that a small child would reach for their parent. Steve saw his reflection through the grainy windowpane and was quick to sweep in, face hard, set into a look of concern. "Tony, are you alright?"

His voice was velveteen, so... so soft and gentle. It did... something to Tony, crept right down his spine and set sparks in his tummy that made him feel warm. All the same, he shrunk back slowly - his eyes large and wet. "I... I made." he said quietly before he could stop himself, gaze flickering to the soaking diaper and back. His voice sounded different too - slow, soft, a little lisping and quivering as though it would break if it came any higher. The change in Tony's entire demeanour was obvious - so obvious that Steve was still, contemplative. This... this must've been the 'regression' thing that the ward sister had talked to him about. She was right; Tony really did seem to have taken on the demeanour of a child, and it had happened near enough instantly. 

"I can see that," Steve said softly, a chuckle playing on his lips. He thought that adapting to Tony's newfound childish persona would take some getting used to, although he found it easier to fall into that 'child friendly Cap' whisper than he thought; no doubt helped by the sound of Tony's newly tiny voice. "Are you able to change yourself?"

Tony was quiet for a moment, those big, pretty brown eyes set on Cap all the while. Eventually - after the tiniest bit of prompting from Steve - he shook his head. 

"Alright," Steve shrugged, he had been bracing himself for an answer of that sort anyway. He moved closer to Tony's bed and - cautiously - began to fiddle with the tapes. "You just lie there still and I'll sort something out." he urged gently. Obediently Tony was flat. Changing his diaper (...now that was something Steve never envisaged himself saying) was surprisingly easy; considering Tony was happy to lie and suck at the tips of his fingers while Steve worked his magic on the diaper tags. Steve supposed this was entirely down to Tony's newfound regression... and had Tony been even a year older, he would have been cussed out until Tony was red in the face.   
"There," he murmured, nervously looking over his handiwork when his trail of thought died off. Steve was pretty sure he'd never used tabbed diapers, never mind put them on a child... then again, he'd never put them on his forty-or-so year old teammate, either. Things were much easier when diapers were secured with pins, was Steve's final observation on the matter. "How does that feel?" he asked, gingerly reaching up and pulling the leg holes so they sat neat. The sensation prickled along Tony's inner thighs, and his toes curled. "Tickly." he mumbled, pulling a face. Oh yes, Steve scolded himself for forgetting earlier... Tony was incredibly ticklish. "Good." Steve decided, exhaling slowly. "So long as it doesn't hurt."

”Thank you,” Tony nodded, hands grabbing at the bedsheets he was laying upon. His voice was still a little lisped out, leading Steve to conclude that he was still in his ‘regressed’ state. It was rather awkward at first, and it wasn’t long before the room descended into an uncomfortable silence, but equally it wasn’t long before Tony began that fidgeting that came so naturally to a child; not the ‘I need to toilet’ kind but the ‘I’m bored’ kind. It amazed Steve how natural Tony seemed when he was acting so young... as if he had forgotten about being adult entirely. “Hey,” Steve cooed, capturing Tony’s interest from where he was longingly watching a nurse walk by outside with an armful of toys, “you must be pretty bored in here all alone.”

Tony nodded quietly, not meeting the elder’s gaze. He did not cry as Steve thought he may; rather it was as though he had been trained to keep quiet about such things. 

“Why don’t we... play together, then?” Steve asked, stretching his hand over one of Tony’s and giving it a gentle encouraging squeeze. Tony’s gaze finally drifted toward Steve; he bit his lip, unsure. 

”C’mon. I can’t play all by myself. I’m too big. I need someone as little as you to sneak into the playroom.” Steve encouraged in a furtive whisper. A mischievous smile flickered onto Tony’s face for half a second before it was gone... but Steve knew he had won Tony over. Indeed, no less than ten minutes later they had ‘snuck into’ (Steve helping an increasingly loud, excited Tony to ‘sneak in’ by carrying him fireman style while what felt like every nurse and ward sister watched, with great amusement, what they were doing) the playroom and returned again with an entire garage worth of cars, trains and spaceships. The vehicles were dumped onto the bed and Steve happily spent a good forty five minutes being a bus conductor, a railroad constructor, a bridge on a busy highway, while Tony rolled cars and burbled instructions, shouts and giggles toward him. It was the most relaxed Steve had ever seen Tony... but when Tony began to talk of Jarvis and teddies and Winnie the Pooh, and Steve listened and nodded and encouraged him, he seemed to relax even more so.   
After about a hour, though, Tony’s movements finally began to slow down. The car he had been rolling over Steve’s shoulder slowed almost to a stop as though he had... come back to himself. It was like his mind had re-entered his body, like he could see what he was doing and the pinpricks of shame began to resurface. Dropping the car with a gravelly sounding sigh, Tony looked at Steve. 

“Thank you, Steve.” He said. He was speaking normally now. The soft lilt in his voice was gone.

“You said ‘thank you’ once already, Tony.” Steve said, not quite shaking off the tone of voice he had reserved for Tony’s newfound younger self. “You don’t need to say it again.”

“I...” Tony shifted in the bedsheets, crinkling all the while, and found he wasn’t as embarrassed as earlier on by the sound. “I mean it, though. For... for this. The change, the...” he nudged a toy car and smiled despite himself when it beeped back at him. Something needled in the back of his mind. He had needed this. God, he had needed this.  
“What are friends for?” Steve shrugged, shifting free from the cars that had been unloaded onto his lap. It was quiet, then; but not an awkward sort of quiet. A calm quiet. Something welled in Tony, something like relief. God. Steve... he.. he didn’t mind.. which meant...

A nurse stepped into the room, the sound of her heels clicking on the floor slicing through Tony’s thoughts. “Mr. Rogers,” she said crisply, ignoring Tony entirely, “I’m afraid visiting time is over.”

Tony’s heart sunk. So did Steve’s. Neither said anything for a little while although they shared a look between one another. “Alright.” Steve said eventually, nodding and rising to his feet. “Alright, that’s fine. I’ll, uh, I can clear this away.” He explained, gesturing to the toys and cars all over the bed. Tony shifted sheepishly under their gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed when the toys burst into life with various beeps and whistles. 

He didn’t move - or speak - rather pointedly until the nurse left the room muttering something about privacy.  
“You know,” he finally casually spoke to Tony, who had barrelled into a state of embarrassed mutism once he had clawed his way out of littlespace.   
Tony was silent again, just watching, willing Steve to leave - so Steve trailed off and went back to work. As the supersoldier began placing the plastic toys into Tony’s bedside cabinet rather than leaving, Tony frowned. “What are you... doing?”

Steve shrugged. “Now you know where everything is if you want them again.” He said.

 _Again..._  
Tony’s eyes widened. 

The look on his face - all owlish and glossy - made Steve’s heart break.   
But still he nodded, voice lowering to a whisper. “Yeah. If you want to do this again we can do this again, no problem. I can visit you every evening until you’re out of hospital and when you get out...” Steve shrugged. “You know where I am.”

Tony nodded. It was tiny, but it was there. He slid deeper into the bedsheets, murmuring softly, and Steve chuckled. This time, he really did prepare to leave. “I should go, Tony.” He said softly with a tinge of sadness flushing into his voice. Tony’s brows knitted together unhappily as he watched Steve go to the doorway, and for a moment Steve thought he might cry. 

He did not. 

“Hey,” Steve said softly. “I’ll, ah, see you tomorrow, Alright?”

Another tiny nod. 

“Get a good night’s rest, okay?” Steve instructed, sternly. “You have to get plenty of sleep if you want to play again tomorrow.” He said with a wink, beaming when he earned himself a shy, tired smile from Stark.

“Bye, Steve.” Tony whispered in reply, shifting in the bedsheets. He watched as Steve disappeared from the room, disappearing into a smaller and smaller blot before he was finally gone. 

Once Tony was sure he was alone, he threw the blanket over himself and huddled beneath, squeezing his eyes as tightly shut as they would go. Sleep. Sleep... he had to sleep if he wanted tomorrow to get here quicker...!

(Which... he did.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and kudos me if you enjoyed this. I really appreciate them and they help me to keep writing stuff like this :)


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